The Misadventures of Bellamy Devereux
by SaintAugustana
Summary: From the movie 'Interview with a Vampire' - the category did not exist on FF. Bellamy OC and Claudia are always at each other's throats, and both Lestat and Louis have had enough. Warning: spanking/cp/corporal punishment. Louis is pronounced LOUIE.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I recently saw Interview with a Vampire, thought it would be a fun little universe to play around in, and decided to write up a quick fanfiction. I did this over a period of 48 hours, and did not revise or edit very much in total. It's shabby, but it was enjoyable, and I hope you enjoy it, too, keeping in mind it won't be my best work. (And if it is, wow.)**

**By the way, if you have NOT seen the movie, "Interview with a Vampire" large parts of this story, integral FACTS will not make sense to you. Do not labor under the false impression Louis (pronounced LOUIE) and Lestat are a gay vampire couple, or be confused when I mention that the windows are boarded during sunny days. At least go to IMDB. com and read up a bit. You should also know that Louis is played by Brad Pitt, Lestat by Tom Cruise, and Claudia by Kirsten Dunst.  
**

We had been fighting over a particularly juicy-looking guest – nowadays the four of us only attended parties for the free food, and I'm not referring to crumbles of cheese on shiny silver trays or the luscious wine neither Claudia nor I was permitted to drink – a pleasantly fair lady, with a slight curl to her raven locks and an aroma about her that raptured the senses and only added to the decadent tinge of blood in the air.

I watched as she ambled gracefully about the room from my plush ottoman near the balcony, my body slumped ever-so-slightly in futile effort to relieve the itching sensation circling my lower neckline: not that it wasn't, overall, a satiating way to live, one thing I hated about being a vampire child was having Lestat always hovering, insisting I look my best, feel my best, be my best.

Even if I was only going to bloody up whatever nice frilly thing I was wearing.

The pianist began to play – a slow, melodious tune. I glanced to Claudia, my sister for all intents and purposes, sitting quite lady-like on the edge of a regal wing-backed chair. Horrified, I followed her eyeline to the waitress lady, and hissed in her direction. Distracted, her blue eyes fluttered to my green ones and I shook my head violently.

_Don't you dare! I saw her first! _ I thought as loudly as I could without vocalizing.

Claudia just smiled at that, and stood, pulling her satin dress up by the hem and trotting off to fraternize with Louis.

_Damn her! _It was an unspoken rule, I had thought, that first-sight-first-serve applied to any and all potential prey.

Keeping my eye on the prize, I bide time until I noticed her being instructed by a yellow-dressed mistress to fetch a specific mint of wine from the cellar below. I should not have followed her there: one of Lestat's priority rules was never to knowingly try and feed in a room with only one exit – should hasty escape be in order, using the entrance the enemy is using is never wise.

But I couldn't resist, nor did I wish to let her slip from my fingers, only to fall into the waiting hands of _Claudia._

I ducked into the kitchen, beneath a wooden table, and when two elderly butlers rejoined the crowd, ducked down the narrow stone flight of steps into the cellar. The polished oaken door crackled anciently as I sidled into the thin space between it and the frame.

Hushing my breathing, I stalked behind a row of burgundy bottles, dusty with age and prime with flavor. Off toward my right, a glimmer of candlelight caught my eyes. Gathering my resolve, I clenched my fists, and shot out from behind the column, a cougar pouncing her poor, hapless prey.

Except my hapless prey had already been made hapless by somebody else, and that somebody else was enjoying this fact to its full extent. I halted in my tracks.

"Claudia!" I protested loudly. Though I was many decades her senior, she surpassed me humanly by two years plus the rich, divine attention she was given by both Lestat and Louis – she was their favorite.

"You have to be faster," she teased.

I felt my insides burning with the hunger and ache of frustrated anger, seething as I watched her sap ounce after beautiful ounce of life from those perfect veins.

"I saw her FIRST!"

"Oh, grow up, Bellamy," Claudia scoffed.

And just like that, I embraced the inner animal, the cougar who'd been all fired up to unleash on a helpless maidservant, but had to settle for beating the holy hell out of my sister instead.

Already dead, the feast had no trouble ignoring our combat. I leapt upon Claudia, tearing at her for all I was worth, clawing her hair, punching her face, ripping at her dress. She wasn't to be underestimated, however, and I received a few well-timed blows to the stomach and face. We tumbled aimlessly, crashing into the wooden shelves. Irreplaceable bottles of hundred-year-old wine, aged to perfection and made with the finest grapes of the vineyard, went flying as the apparatus tipped; it rained burgundy.

---

Upstairs, Lestat and Louis were having a lovely, cordial conversation about who-knows-what when suddenly, Lestat shushes Louis and puts a cupped hand to his ear.

"Do you hear that?"

Louis eyes him peculiarly, but cocks his head to the sound of shattering glass and bickering children. No one else notices.

Lestat grins and departs through the crowd, Louis following quickly.

---

"You conceited little bitch, you always have to be so selfish!" I shouted into Claudia's pearly face once I had her pinned. A devastating blow to my gut sent me reeling into a marble column; she was on her feet in an instant, perfect white hands crumpling the lapels of my shirt as she grabbed and sent me flying into another low set of bottles.

"And you're always such an infant!" She screamed as I tackled her, growling menacingly.

"What the hell is going ON here?!"

I scrambled off and away from Claudia as if burned by hot coals. The fight was over.

But let me tell you something about Claudia: our fathers worship her, and she knows it. A master of her own emotions, Claudia already has the angelic innocence of tears flowing down her dirty face, she's already struggling dramatically to her feet and she's already fleeing to the comfort of Louis's open arms. I try to ignore his expression – it's not a happy one, but Lestat is furious, and his eyes burn with anger.

I avert my gaze, hang my head, wipe at my blackened eye with the back of one hand, and notice for the first time how irrevocably damaged the winery is.

"What _happened_," Lestat demands, his voice cracking with anger, but barely above a whisper.

I felt a wad of saliva slide thickly down my dry throat.

"I was just feeding, and she attacked me!" Claudia cried.

"That's not true!" I shouted back.

"It is so," Claudia pulled away from Louis's hands and stepped forward, hunched a bit in accusatory stance. "You always try to take mine, you're too stupid and cowardly to find your own!"

My teeth clamped together in a growl, and before anybody could try and mediate, Claudia was floored once more, struggling beneath my arms and legs like a fish out of water gasping for air.

"Bellamy!" Louis shouted.

"That's enough!" Lestat hauled me away from Claudia by the scruff of my fancy jacket collar and shoved me away. Louis lifted Claudia gently beneath her arms and stood her on her own two feet beside him. I noticed he didn't open his embrace to her, but I had no time to consider the strange way this made me happy.

"We're going home, NOW!"


	2. Chapter 2

Lestat never wasted time with formalities of punishment, except that the punishment in itself, coming from him, was a formality. He'd considered the both of us, Claudia and I, to be vampire pupils, students of some sick school of monsters and their ways. If one of us misbehaved, it warranted punishment. Typically, a smack on the hand or wrist (for Claudia... for me the smacks were considerably harder and often implicated with a ruler or strap), a quick switching, or, in rare cases (and when I say rare I mean never for Claudia and lots for me), a cane to the backside.

I'd never been punished by Louis. He was the compassionately intolerant one – he couldn't condone mischief, but he couldn't bring himself to lay a hand on Claudia, or me. Even me. The bad one.

Lestat practically dragged me up the steps to the room we were renting in New Orleans and kicked the wooden doors in. They flew open, bashing against walnut credenzas and lovely papered walls. His hand, still an iron vice, hauled me by the collar directly to the antechamber and over the low, cushioned stool Claudia got all her dress fittings standing on. It smelt heavily of the fine polish she used on her neatly-cut leather shoes, and I began to sweat pondering the unpleasant idea I was about to receive a thrashing while bent over one of Claudia's many pedestals. My face toward the opposite wall, the one lined with plants from floor to ceiling, I only heard Louis enter with her in tow, and Lestat rooting around in his cylindrical umbrella container for the right tool to carry out my doom.

Finally, he fished out what I could only surmise was the one I had been hoping against hope he would pick, because he would do that – he would go and read my mind just to find out that the rattan cane was the worst of them all and then he'd pick it. My arms crumpled beneath my chest, fingers curling helplessly around the fabric of the stool, I felt all the fear and shame and hatred flood to my face and my cheeks burn.

"Lestat," Louis whispered in pleading, but he was relentless.

His long footsteps approached, and I was suddenly lifted up by the waistband of my trousers and positioned more vulnerably over the stool.

"Claudia, come on, let's go and get you ready for bed," Louis ordered gently, and I heard his hand close around hers, her stocking feet dragging ever-so-slightly against the smooth wood grain as she protested leaving this marvelous sight of me about to receive my comeuppance.

But I was so surprised by this act of kindness by Louis I almost _felt_ my respect for him rising in my chest.

Or was that fear?

Lestat ordered me drop my trousers. Struggling, I slid my arms awkwardly out of my jacket, pulled the suspending straps from my shoulders, and lowered them. Seconds later, the first searing lash struck. My eyes squeezed shut, I clenched my teeth to bite back the scream, but by the third sharp smack, I was grunting and shuddering over the stool, wiggling with futility. By the fifth, I was crying, and by the eighth, I was crying out. Lestat reeled back with each stroke, and each time the cane struck, it made the sound of a muffled gunshot, and my backside burned. By the sixteenth searing stroke, I couldn't stifle the yells that came with each new stripe.

"You put us all in danger! Risking exposure!"

I hung my head, pressed my lips together and shut my eyes, but tears found their way down my face, anyway.

"To be so reckless is never acceptable, do you understand me?!"

He continued thrashing me. I felt unable to answer, what with every second sound coming out of my mouth being a sob.

"I SAID 'DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" He roared, this time hitting my bare, pale legs with the flippy cane.

I screamed in pain. "Y-yes, s-sir," I whispered.

"I can't hear you!" Again, my legs.

"Yes, sir, I understand you!"

And it ended.

I registered the end of the lashings, but I had no strength left to stand. I remained bent over the stool, tears dripping mercilessly onto the china carpet beneath me, seeping into the intricate patterns of red and blue and gold, my hands still clenched, sweaty now, beneath my chest, my legs and backside just burning. I heard the cane tossed to the floor.

Lestat's polished loafers came into view near my head as it hung feet from the floor. He stooped down and scrutinized me for a long moment.

"You realize you deserved that?"

I couldn't look at him. Outside of hating him for what he'd just done, I really had little contempt for Lestat de Lioncourt. He'd been good to me, good to me even before he Turned Louis. I was his first – he had always wanted to pass on his hoards of dark knowledge to someone impressionable; that was just the kind of ego he had. He picked me, an orphan, who was living on the streets of Chicago. I'd be dead if not for him. Well, 'dead' in all human sense of the term. Even if I was a huge disappointment most of the time (it annoyed him to no end that I, like Louis, had little courage to kill humans), he didn't abandon me. I owed him.

That didn't mean he wasn't a harsh disciplinarian. Beyond strict, borderline tyrant. He tolerated little.

And me, the perpetually-twelve-year-old mischief maker, I'd probably have the pleasure of receiving hundreds of whippings from him before...well, I'm uncertain. I suppose I'd imagined I'd be with Lestat forever. He was and is my father. He expected more from me than Claudia, I could ascertain that much – shame I just screwed up more often than she did. And, in a fashion, she favored Louis, anyway. At the moment, I did, too.

But, yes, I realize I deserved that, and answered him so. I did not mention I thought Claudia deserved it as well, but I thought it.

Lucky me he didn't catch it.

His strong hands closed around my collar, pulled me to my feet, and yanked my trousers up to their original position. I cringed, tears still sticky and cool on my face, still dirty from the grapple in the wine cellar, and reached back to rub my aching posterior. Lestat smacked my hands and gave me a couple of sharp swats, propelling me toward the double French doors.

"No supper tonight," he pointed toward my bedroom.

I stared aghast at him. "I didn't eat, I'm starving!"

"You should have thought of that before you disobeyed me, Bellamy. Bed, now," he ordered. I swallowed, turned sadly, and headed painfully in that direction.


	3. Chapter 3

I'd no more tears to expend, and no desire to sleep. So I laid lengthwise upon the silky, plush duvet of the queen canopy bed in my room, at the foot of which my mahogany coffin lay waiting for me, and hugged a pillow beneath my head and stomach. I'd changed into linen shorts and an undershirt, but hadn't bothered cleaning my face or brushing my short, unruly mess of hair.

A vampire's perception of time is usually warped from a human's. I don't know how long I laid there.

In the narrow crack between the ornate door and the wooden floorboards, a small amount of light spilled into the room. I watched it grow fainter and fainter in intensity as Louis extinguished the candles in the main chamber, listened as Lestat played some beautifully somber tune on the grand piano and, next door, the both of them tucked Claudia into her coffin for the evening. I turned away, toward the open French doors that led to my private balcony. The sheen white curtains fluttered gently in the breeze. I began to wonder if I were bold enough to sneak away through the windows, into the dark streets of New Orleans, where the nightlife would surely satisfy my lust for blood.

"Not one your brighter ideas."

I swallowed, but did not acknowledge Louis's entrance with even a quick glance, lest he see the disgraceful streaks of salty tears shining on my face. I'd expected to hear from him eventually, something akin to an expression of disappointment or frustration, but to fail him was almost more painful than to fail Lestat. I could only surmise it was Louis's forgiving nature that made me feel so low and dirty.

My body sagged as the soft mattress depressed with his weight.

Louis cringed upon the sight of my legs – though there were only two stripes there, they were red and stinging, and only lesser indications of what my backside looked like. I struggled to labor my breathing into even, heavy inhalations and exhalations. My throat burned as if trying to process hot coals; this is hunger as a vampire experiences it – not from the stomach, from the throat, at first. Go long enough without feeding, and the excruciation of starvation begins to sear through your empty veins and cripple you mentally.

Lestat wouldn't allow my death this way, but he would make sure I knew very well that he would push me to the very extremes of this thing I'd become.

To my dismay, the tears began anew, and I buried my face in the duvet.

A warm, gentle hand pressed itself to my small back, rubbing, soothingly firm.

"I'm sorry, Bellamy," he whispered, but it didn't matter.

_I deserved it_, I thought, unable to form coherent words.

"Maybe," he returned, kneading my shoulders. "But not for what he said."

I sniffed, my crying ceased, the final drops finding their way along my nose and into my mouth, unpleasantly salty. I considered how a man who drunk saltwater would become a right lunatic, even die, and yet, sadness is often expressed in saltwater.

"Are you listening to me?"

I blinked, suddenly out of my musings, and gave a hoarse "yes, sir." If Lestat had sent Louis in to chastise me, I didn't want to incur anymore wrath from either of them by being disrespectful.

"Look at me," he requested gingerly. I swiped a hand across my grimy face, really uncomfortable with the idea of moving.

"Come on, roll over and look at me. I know it hurts."

Ever-patient Louis. I grimaced as I rolled over onto my back, pulled my hands entwined to my stomach and tucked my chin into my chest. Even when he was right in my face, I couldn't meet his piercing green eyes. Part of this was because of the pain beneath me – the duvet was soft, but every surface felt like coarse leather on a thrashed backside. Part was out of a sense of shame I couldn't shake. What had I to be ashamed of?

Louis reached his strong hands beneath my arms and pulled me farther up until my head rested on the soft pillows, one of which he took and pushed beneath me. He laid down by my side, watching as I tried to understand why he was being so sensitive to little things I needed, until he gripped my chin in his nimble fingers and directed my eyes to him.

"Why exactly were you and Claudia fighting?"

I sucked in my lower lip, suddenly aware my shame was that I'd let her get to me.

"Bellamy."

"I saw her first."

"Saw who first?"

"The maid," I whispered. "The girl she was feeding on. I saw her first. She should have gotten her own."

"I see," he released my chin and settled back into the pillows, an expression of deep consideration on his pale face.

"She always does that," I picked at a loose thread on my thin blouse.

"Claudia."

I nodded.

"A vampire cannot help who he lusts for, Bellamy, you know that."

"Yes, but we could at least respect that in each other! Sometimes I think she picks them just because I already have. I'm not like you or Lestat, Louis, I can't just look at a human being and think instantly I'm going to kill them."

He seemed fascinated by this. "Why?"

I hesitated. "Some of them need to live. They have families, businesses. Children," I shut my eyes as the final word choked in my throat. I missed being a child, a human child.

Louis must have noticed my sniffing, because he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, into his chest. I muffled my sobs against his burgundy vest until, finally, the burden of exhaustion became too much to bear.


	4. Chapter 4

When I awoke the following morning, I was in my mahogany coffin, and the windows and curtains had been shut, indicating it was a sunny day outside – Lestat and Louis, as a protective measure, always boarded up the place in these situations. Groaning, I lifted the lid with ginger fingers and slid it onto the Indian carpet beneath my resting place. I pushed myself into a seated position, scrubbed the last remnants of sleep from my eyes, and stumbled off toward the basin sink to wash my face.

The cool water brought the shine back to my tired eyes and felt refreshing upon my dead face. I hovered over the sink for a moment, breathing deeply. The pain in my backside had long since subsided, sometime in the middle of the night. Vampires heal quickly. The purple bruise rimming my left eye had been the first to go, I imagined. I'd be sore for another day or so, but was otherwise in peak condition, once again.

I snatched the linen cloth from a rack near my head and dried my face.

"That's a start."

I glanced over my shoulder.

Louis smiled and laid a bundle of clothes on the magnificent bed, today's wear. I grumbled something inaudible – if Lestat was choosing my clothes, it meant either we'd be attending some boring social gathering, or trying to weasel into a quaint little congregation of wealthy individuals, whose blood always seemed to taste better than the average citizen's. Lestat was a glutton for the hunt. I was just hungry.

Louis beckoned me over with a crook of his finger. I ambled to his side, carding a hand through my short muss of brown hair.

"Acceptable?" He teased, indicating the clothing.

I hopped up onto the mattress, surprised to see an ordinary set of child's play-clothes: khaki trousers, a deep red blouse, and a dark brown vest. Though it was typical, I'd learned, for female children of this era to wear dresses, even as casual attire, I was happy Lestat continued to acknowledge I preferred the freedom of boys' clothes, and they fit me well enough, because I had never hit puberty.

I would not have known what puberty was (or a lot of things I know now) if I hadn't stupidly asked him one day, why older women looked different than younger girls.

I nodded. _Acceptable. _

"Lovely. Come on," he lifted me into his arms and carried me out of the room.

I rested my head in the crook of his neck.

"I've drawn a bath for you."

My eyes went wide. Call me juvenile, but I hated baths. Abhorred them.

"I have to take one now? I just woke up!" I protested.

"What better time?" He laughed as we entered a smaller antechamber, in the middle of which a large tub of warm water rested. Louis dropped me to my feet and I immediately turned to get away, but he grabbed my collar just before I slipped out of his arm's length and pulled me back. Claudia was just finishing drying off and tugging a pretty yellow dress over her shoulders, all the while having a nice conversation with Lestat about some novel they'd both particularly enjoyed.

"Ah, there she is," Lestat welcomed from the plush chair, uncrossing his legs and getting to his feet. "Thank you, Louis."

Louis didn't answer. I looked up. His face was expressionless, and I knew he was relaying his words in thoughts to Lestat.

_I should warn you, she didn't come quietly. _

I caught bits and pieces of this exchange, cursing my inabilities.

"Come in, love, we'll just get you cleaned up and you can go play."

"Why can't I do it myself?" I stalled. I knew perfectly well why.

"Because all you do is dawdle and you know it, young lady," Lestat countered, his tone growing stern. "Come on."

"It's only a bath, Bells," Louis rubbed my head.

In the corner, Claudia noticed this minor act of affection, and chuckled. "I bet she'd never bathe if she wasn't told. Filthy street urchin," she grinned menacingly. I felt my teeth clench and a snarl shudder up my throat.

Now, I have never discovered how or under what circumstances Claudia came to know of my past life, but her mentioning it was a grave mistake.

I was after her like a shot, but she reacted in time to get away from me. I chased her through the bedrooms, the kitchen, and into the main chamber, where I leapt over a low sofa and just missed snatching the hem of her dress.

"That's ENOUGH!"

Lestat was gathering Claudia up, pulling her to her feet by her bicep. Before I could delight in the small shake he gave my evil sister, I was hauled up as well, by my second father's strong hands beneath my arms.

"Now I'm beginning to understand why you two are always at each other's throats!" Lestat proclaimed. In my position, I couldn't do much to look remorseful, as I felt no remorse. I was going to get that Claudia if it was the last thing I did.

_Bitchy little suck-up vampire whore._

"What was that?" Louis shook me firmly. My mouth fell open in silence. Shit, he heard that.

"What did she say?" Lestat commanded, receiving yet another non-verbal response.

I was in for it now, and I knew this by the looks I was getting from all three of my family – frustration from Lestat, confusion and malice from Claudia, and...I looked up at Louis, and down again just as quickly, seeing upon his face an expression of anger I had never seen there before.

"Wait, I didn't mean it!" Which was true, I hadn't meant it. I was just upset, angry, saying stupid things I had not imagined anyone but me would ever hear.

"I will handle this, Lestat," Louis assured him. Lestat nodded, his eyes glistening with pride in Louis' increasing tendency to show what he considered a little backbone.

"Come, Claudia, you naughty girl."

And before either of us could protest, flee, or otherwise stall the inevitable, we were carted off toward opposite ends of the house. Our eyes met in a fleeting moment, but there was a flash of recognition between us, as I'm sure she imagined horror at Lestat's audacity to punish her at all, and I thought, surely he wouldn't do to her what he'd done to me the previous evening?

And here I was once more, in trouble for the shameful act of being too vulnerable, too quick to action. The only difference between the wine cellar fight and this one was that I was being dealt with by Louis.

_Louis_.

Ever-patient, compassionate Louis. What would he do? I shuddered to think of enduring any harsh words from him, for they would sting more than Lestat's lash ever could, and that was saying something.

I squirmed beneath his arm where he'd tucked me. He shoved the parlor doors with a booted foot and carried me swiftly to the low set of ottomans in the center of the circular room, which was painted deep shades of red and gold to match the blazing fireplace on one end and the elegant portraits of he and Lestat on the opposite wall.

This was Louis' favorite room, his reading room – hundreds of books on many ornately carved bookshelves took up the rest of the unoccupied space. I was rarely in this parlor, never having wrung up the courage to admit I wasn't the best reader. I could barely hope to understand anything spoken about such thickly bound novels like Wuthering Heights or Pride and Prejudice.

Louis shoved some tattered hardbacks from the cushioned ottoman and took a seat, flung me over his lap with little effort, and proceeded to swat me soundly a good dozen times.

This was a new experience for me. I am not typically a crier (excluding instances involving a cane wielded by an angry Lestat), but something about behaving in such a way that made the pacifistic _Louis_ feel compelled to smack me made my stomach churn and ache with chagrin and self-disgust, and I couldn't stop the moisture pricking painfully at my eyes. (Of course, the reignited burning in my backside wasn't helping me much. I had no idea he smacked so hard.)

He yanked me to my feet and held me firmly between his legs.

"That's the second time you've attacked your sister. What has gotten into that thick head of yours?"

It was true, prior to the party last night I had never laid a hand on her, nor attempted to harm her physically. It was a line I considered to treacherous to cross.

I swallowed and chewed dolefully on my lower lip.

"Answer me this instant, Bellamy Devereux, or so help me-"

"You heard what she said!" I sputtered quickly.

"Yes, but is that any excuse to want to harm her?"

I struggled to answer like a fish gasping for air. "I... well, if that isn't, what is?"

Not the answer he was searching for. As instantly as I had answered he had me pinned again.

"No, wait, I didn't mean that! Ow!" Another couple of blazing smacks, and I was on my feet again.

"I can do this all day, Bells, do not test me."

I rubbed my burning posterior and hung my head to my chest, crying silently.

"There's no ex-excuse," I whispered painfully.

"Again?" He ordered, having either not heard me or wanted, as adults typically do, for a child to speak louder.

"There's no excuse," I repeated as clearly as I could, which wasn't very.

"No, there isn't."

There was a momentary pause, during which neither of us spoke. My crying began to slow and my vision clear itself of tears once more. Hesitantly, I looked up at Louis, who gathered me into his arms without a word, lifting me into his lap and resting his chin upon my head. I dried my eyes with a shirtsleeve.

We stayed this way for a few minutes. I'd been held by Louis before, last night and a few other times prior, but his embraces seemed to be reserved for Claudia most of the time.

"What kind of nonsense are you thinking now?"

I really needed to learn how to control the projection of my thoughts.

I shrugged, just enjoying being enveloped in the warmth of his arms, my head on his chest as it undulated with even breaths.

Unfortunately, he felt the urge to make another point, and pushed me off to stand before him again.

This time, my malleable green eyes held his soft ones.

"I do _not_ care for Claudia more than you, Bellamy, understand?"

My brow furrowed. "So, you care for her _less _than me?" That was a odd concept.

"No, I care for the both of you exactly the same." He paused. I nodded once, accepting his word for the truth, though I still had qualms in believing it. "Is that why you've been arguing with her? Because you thought I loved her more?"

_Love_. An even odder concept. Strange, I had never considered, voiced, or imagined Louis (or even Lestat for that matter and I'd known him centuries longer) to love me.

"My goodness, child, if you didn't think that, what did you think? That I hated you?"

"Of course not," I replied honestly. "But... how can you _love_ me? Claudia was right – I am a filthy urchin, and she's right, I'm always such a coward, and when she said that-"

"Enough!" He shook me out of my reverie. I shut my mouth, suddenly frightened. He must have noticed, because he released my arms and placed his head in his hands.

"Enough about Claudia. It doesn't matter if she's right or wrong, what you are or what you aren't, what you've done or haven't done. We are a _family_, and I care for the both of you, and Lestat. I realize it isn't perfect, but it isn't supposed to be. Understand?"

I didn't really, but I was afraid he'd smack me again if I answered in the negative.

Again, however, he must have seen the confusion in my face, for he took my face in his hands.

"_I will love you _no matter _what _you do, what anybody _says_, or how bad things get. Do you understand that?"

Our eyes locked for this brief moment before I flung myself into his chest, my wiry arms wrapped around his shoulders. He returned the embrace, holding me tightly, and if I didn't know any better, I might've thought he was crying, too.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite coming to various understandings about the relationship (or, rather, lack of relationship) between Claudia and I, I had no desire to face her again, even if it was ordained as a way to remedy certain wrongs.

However, the threat of further punishment far outweighed the cons of apologizing to my sister, so I allowed Louis to lead me from the parlor back into the main chamber, where Claudia sat in waiting upon the claw-foot sofa. Lestat stood behind her. I gazed at her curiously, shocked to find her eyes still wet with tears. I might've chuckled or made a ragged attempt to mock her for this, but with both of my fathers hovering, that would have been rather unwise indeed. I halted when her eyes met mine, and practically swallowed all the composure I'd been gathering.

Louis nudged the small of my back. Suddenly, quick as he was, Lestat appeared at our sides and whispered something inaudible in Louis' ear, who then whispered something back. I wasn't paying attention, too mesmerized thinking about what Lestat could have done to elicit more than the usual crocodile tears from my darling sister.

To my own surprise and horror, I honestly felt _bad_ for her being punished, even if it was her fault.

"I trust Louis explained to you that this behavior will not be tolerated any longer, or the consequences will be most severe," Lestat gripped my shoulder, startling me out of my absorption.

"Yes, sir," I nodded quickly. Compared to yesternight, I didn't want to know what 'severe' was.

"Go on, like I told you," Louis added, pushing me forward.

I sighed. This would be easier if I could muster up some angry feelings toward Claudia, some frustrated emotions designed to distract me, make the apology easier said, but seeing her sitting there, clutching one of her porcelain dolls as she always did, only closer than usual, and with an expression of such anguish – it was almost comically ridiculous, that face. You'd think she'd never been spoken harshly to before. Even if Lestat had caned her, and I highly doubted it, it didn't warrant such upset. But there she was, sensitive little doll. Maybe he had caned her and she just couldn't take it. All that mouth on her and she couldn't take a caning without completely losing it.

Before I could realize I was doing so and stop myself, I lowered myself onto the low teak table just feet from her post on the sofa. My backside protested, but I leaned forward, entwining my hands upon my lap and resting my elbows on my knees. For her part, Claudia did no more than clutch her doll tighter, as if fighting the urge to run.

_Why are you afraid of me now_? I thought, knowing she couldn't hear me. _I'm the one who has to apologize. _

It had not occurred to me that she owed me anything. It was only in my head that I shouldn't have let her words incite me to anger.

"Claudia?" I inquired hesitantly.

She looked up shakily, sadly enough to almost frighten away all my resolve. I licked my lips.

I couldn't do it, not when she was like this.

"What's the matter with you?" I whispered. "This was my fault."

"It's not that," she replied softly. "And it wasn't, anyway."

"Then why are you still crying?"

She turned away and didn't answer. I ground my teeth, eager to be done with this.

"Look, Claudia, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for today, and I'm sorry for last night," I started, deflating slightly. "I shouldn't have... have attacked you."

"I'm sorry, too," she whispered.

I received no satisfaction from this, and was certain no pleasure was gained from my extension of remorse, either. We'd come too far apart for a single instance of 'sorry' to heal our relationship, and so, I nodded, and made a motion to stand.

"Bellamy."

"Yes?"

She hesitated. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Against the voice in my head begging me to run while I could, I re-took my seat upon the low table. "I hope Lestat wasn't too hard on you," I encouraged.

She grinned lightly. "Too late for that."

I couldn't help returning the smile. "Yeah? Come on."

"That's none of your business," she replied, but in a tone devoid of ferocity. Her face flushed with embarrassment.

"Is that why you're crying?" I folded my arms, but she didn't answer. "Come on, chicken, I'll tell you what Louis did to me if you tell me what Lestat did to you."

"Oh, we both know that's no story. Louis wouldn't hurt a fly."

I shook my head in silent laughter and took a tentative glance over my shoulder. Both Louis and Lestat were perfectly occupied chatting about something boring, most certainly. I leaned as close to Claudia as I could without falling off my perch, and whispered, "I'd wager his hand is harder than Lestat's, by miles. Why do you think Lestat favors canes?"

"You're joking."

"Nope. Your turn. He cane you?"

She shook her head no.

I was awestruck.

"He smacked me, though."

I ducked my head and chuckled. "And you're still crying?"

"Hey, it hurt."

"Course it did."

"You're awful, you know that?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you," she stuck out her tongue. "And Louis's hand is _not_ harder than Lestat's."

"Is, too."

"Is not. You got the easy punishment, Bellamy."

"Okay, Claudia," I threw my hands up in false submission. "Whatever you say."

She reached around her side for a pillow and clocked me one in the side.

"What's going on over here?" Lestat's voice rose behind me and his firm hands found my shoulders.

"We were just arguing, sir," I craned my neck back to look at him.

"Do not tell me you girls need another dose of discipline."

"What is the problem between you two?" Louis approached.

I smiled at Claudia. She gave a red-faced grin.

"No problem." An enormous weight took flight from my gut.

"Then what, pray tell, were you arguing about," Lestat tugged at my hair playfully.

"Whose hand is harder."

Louis and Lestat exchanged equally confused glances with each other, before failing to suppress smirks.

"And did you come to a sufficient conclusion."

"Uhm," I chuckled hesitantly. "No."

"Well, maybe we should take turns smacking you both so your curiosity might be satisfied."

Before either of us could protest, we were swept out of our chairs and thrown side-by-side onto the chaise, where our fathers proceeded to tickle us until we couldn't breathe right. Beside me, Claudia's laughter consumed the air, and I had subliminal notions we would be a family yet.


End file.
